[29 September 1996] In my flightier moments, I called him “Beautiful Baby Beau Bennett of Bedford Street.” He was smarter than your average cat, funnier too, and we worked out our living arrangements with more ease and success than is always so, in my experience, with male humans. Some things we did my way, others we did his way and we maintained our household without much argument for nearly 20 years.
Beau died at home in my arms in the evening of 29 September 1996.
There is Oliver now, unique and wonderful in his own way. But nearly ten years after Beau's death, sometimes I think I see him out of the corner of my eye trotting by on his way to check out the squirrels through the back windows.